


Rosemary and Sage

by Khafushun



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fíli centric, Ghosts, Halloween!, Haunted Houses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magic, Paranormal Investigators, Slow Build, fili and kili are not related, spirit possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2544530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khafushun/pseuds/Khafushun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili has been able to see ghosts for as long as he can remember. It's more of a curse than a gift, really, but he's made the best of it. He's made a name for himself as a paranormal investigator, but not everyone takes him seriously.</p><p>One Halloween, Fili decides to look into a haunted house despite his better judgment. Nothing can prepare him for what he finds inside... or for the strange young man his life becomes entangled with as a result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The dead man stood on the corner of High Street and Main, just as he did every morning. No one else saw him. No one else knew he was there.

Fili tried not to look. As long as the spirit was unaware he'd been seen, he'd probably leave Fili alone.

The light turned green, and Fili stepped on the accelerator.

A few blocks later, and _there_ – the young girl who now popped up near the bank. She was a new one. Fili had read about it in the paper: a hit and run. Dead before the paramedics had reached her.

_Please get out of the road,_ Fili thought, as he always did. As usual, she did not obey. He ignored his impulse to break and drove through, eyes clenched shut.

He arrived at the office with no further incident, his sweat cooling on his skin.

 

* * *

 

It was a quarter past four p.m., and Fili was pondering his evening plans – a cold beer and a marathon session of “Breaking Bad” sounded about right – when the phone rang. He suppressed a groan; the only person who bothered calling his landline was Bofur, and if Bofur was calling then it meant he had a client. Whoever it was, he hoped they could wrap things up in under an hour; he liked to leave early on Fridays, and today he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

He picked up the phone after a few rings. “What's up, Bofur?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Bofur drawled. “Just wanted you to know, there's a young man here to see you. It's about a house. If you're free I'll send him in.”

Fili contemplated making something up, knowing Bofur would see through it even if his potential client would not, but in the end his curiosity won. “No, it's fine; I'll hear him out.”

“Alrighty, just wanted to check. Thought you might be busy, considering the date and all. We'll be right over.”

Fili set the phone down as he contemplated Bofur's words. It was true, Halloween was normally a busy time for the Blue Mountain Paranormal Research Society: ordinary people suddenly seemed to develop a sixth sense the closer it got to the holiday, and Fili would typically be inundated with work (though mostly of the false-alarm-and-practical-joke variety). This year had been slightly different, however. Fili supposed he could chalk it up to the number of late nights he'd been working – a man could get a lot of work done when he wanted to avoid going home to an empty apartment.

Tonight was going to be different, though. Yeah, some beers, a frozen pizza, and way too much TV was definitely in order: Fili was going to live the bachelor life to the fullest and _enjoy_ it, dammit.

A ridiculously long series of knocks interrupted his reverie. Bofur opened the door, ushering in a small man with a short, wispy beard and copper-colored hair. “Fili, this is Orson Rhys, and he's got quite the story to tell.”

Fili narrowed his eyes, but couldn't quite tell if his secretary was being facetious or not. “Thanks, Bofur,” he said, and stood to greet his client. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rhys. I'm Philip Johnson.”

The younger man took the hand Fili proffered with a rather weak grip. “Just Ori is fine,” he murmured, and then sat down abruptly in one of the folding chairs facing Fili's desk.

Fili cleared his throat before sitting himself. “So, what brings you here today, Ori?”

The young man was playing absentmindedly with the wool of his jumper, staring at the mess of paper on Fili's desk with wide eyes. Fili groaned internally: the kid had either had the fright of his life or he was an exceptional actor. At the moment, Fili couldn't decide which was worse.

“My brother just bought this house,” Ori began after a moment. “It's a-- it's a really big, old house. Never liked it, but Dori says he got a good deal on it.” He stopped his fidgeting momentarily and stared moodily at the wall. “It gives me the creeps.”

Fili uncapped a pen and held it expectantly over the nearest notebook he could find. “Go on. Has anything strange happened in the house that you can't explain?”

Ori frowned. “Not strange, exactly, no. But sometimes it feels like someone's watching me, even though I know I'm alone. Sometimes a room feels cold, even when it's hot outside – and we don't have air conditioning. And once,” Ori continued, his voice growing quieter, “I walked inside a room and felt sadder than I've ever felt, for absolutely no reason at all.”

Fili tapped his pen against his notepad once, then twice. “That's it?”

The younger man glared at him with an intensity that took Fili by surprise. He folded his woolly arms in a jerky motion and lifted his chin defiantly. “I'm not lying. Something's not right in that house. My brothers don't believe me, and your secretary doesn't believe me either, but I was hoping you might.”

Fili dropped his pen. He could already feel a headache developing, just at the base of his skull. “Mr. Rhys – Ori,” he corrected as the other man's glare deepened, “it's not that I don't believe you. Old houses are creepy. Your imagination probably got the best of you. It happens to the best of us.

“However,” Fili continued loudly when it looked like Ori would protest, “I've been at this for a few years, and I've heard other people tell me stories just like yours. It's so generic you could have found it on the Internet - 'Signs Your House is 'Haunted.'” Fili mimed air quotes, to Ori's apparent displeasure. “Now, I could check it out for you – I've done that before against my better judgment, but these cases are always the same: there's nothing. Pursuing this is just going to be a waste of my time – and your money.”

Ori's face had turned a furious shade of red. “You're not even going to take a look at it, then? I rode my bike all the way over here just to talk to you!”

Fili had to stifle a sudden burst of laughter. “There are other investigators who would jump at the chance to look at your house, you know,” he said with an unsteady voice. The color of Ori's face contrasted horribly with his fuzzy brown sweater, giving him the appearance of an overheated hamster. Fili coughed to cover an errant giggle. “You don't need _me_.”

To Fili's surprise, Ori began to shake his head. “Nope, I did my research before coming here,” he said with a stubborn set to his mouth. “Those other guys have a lot of fancy tools, but you're the real deal. You can actually see ghosts, right? You'd know just by walking through it if my brother's house is haunted or not.”

Fili suppressed a smile; the real deal, was he? That was definitely a refreshing perspective. Perhaps he'd been hasty in dismissing Ori so quickly. “It would be simple enough to check,” Fili agreed at last, already feeling his resolve crumble. Compliments were rare in his profession. But with that thought in mind, he couldn't stop himself from adding, “I'm sure Thorin Durin from Erebor Ghost Hunters would gladly take your case, though – free of charge.”

Ori blinked. “Can he also see ghosts?”

Fili smiled at last, though not kindly. “No, he can't.”

“Well, then I don't want him!” Ori exclaimed. “Please, Mr. Johnson, I'll pay whatever you want, so will you take a look at my brother's house or not?”

Fili paused, mentally making some changes to his plans for the night. “I'll do it,” he said at last. “In fact, I'll take a look at it tonight.”

 

* * *

 

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Ori was back on his way to the house in question, where Fili had promised to meet him in a few hours' time. Alone in his office once again, Fili glanced at the address Ori had left with him, frowning. A quick check with Google Maps confirmed the location was on the outskirts of town, an area Fili was unfamiliar with.

He could feel his stomach clench at the thought. He didn't like driving into places unknown. He at least knew the ghosts in town to avoid, but elsewhere... Well, there could be anything.

Fili found himself standing outside the office next to his. “Balin?” he called. “Do you have a minute?”

“The door's open,” came the muffled reply.

Fili wasn't surprised to see the older man sitting behind his desk, a thin pair of wire-frame glasses perched on top of his nose as he leafed through a thick book. Balin was responsible for most of the research the Blue Mountain group did, whereas Fili preferred more active assignments. He figured that's where his talents were of the most use, at least.

Balin looked up from his book. “Fili,” he said, a warm smile crossing his face, but his eyes were troubled. “I thought you'd be heading home soon.”

“Nah,” Fili said, straddling the chair facing Balin's desk. “Got a last minute client. I was hoping you could tell me about the location before I head out.”

Balin frowned, reaching to take the piece of paper Fili handed him. “There's no reason for you to go out, tonight of all nights. I'm sure it could wait until Monday.”

Fili shrugged. “I have no plans. And frankly, I think the kid's a bit of a nut. There's probably nothing there. I'll be in and out of the house in thirty minutes, tops.”

“You're not taking Dwalin?”

Fili shifted his gaze to the wall. “Not this time.”

Balin sighed heavily, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “If this is about Thorin--”

“It has _nothing_ to do with that asshole HACK from Erebor--”

“Oh, very convincing, Fili. I believe you entirely.”

Fili bit his tongue, hard. “Do you know the area?” he asked at last, indicating the paper.

Balin gave him a final, disapproving glance before looking at the address. He made a quiet sound. “I believe I do,” he murmured. “There are a few older houses in the area, but so far no paranormal activity has been reported. It's quite interesting that you've got a lead there.”

Fili chuckled. “Not much of one. Like I said, I think the kid got himself freaked out about an old house – it didn't sound like anything particularly interesting had happened.”

“Still, it never hurts to check.” Balin seemed to hesitate then, letting out another deep breath. “I really think you should take Dwalin with you for this.”

“Why?”

“It's probably nothing, but...” He pushed the slip of paper back toward Fili. “According to legend, the warlock Oakenshield lived in the area several centuries ago.”

Fili smiled wryly, raising an eyebrow. “A warlock, Balin? Can't say I've met one of those before. Ghosts that old are pretty rare, though.”

“It's not the warlock who concerns me.” Balin gave Fili a hard look. “It's Halloween night and you're planning to go to an area infamous for witchcraft.”

“So it'll be crowded. Lots of teenage pranksters. Is that why you're concerned?”

“There will also be other investigators in the area.”

Fili's stomach dropped. He wasn't ready to face Thorin again, not so soon after everything had gone to shit. “You think the guys from Erebor will..?”

“They might.” Balin sipped at his tea for a moment. “I don't know of a hereditary connection myself, but I imagine Thorin Durin might be very interested in the warlock Thorin Oakenshield. He may want to search for Oakenshield's ghost, despite there being no reports of one.”

“Dammit,” Fili groaned. What was the point of working himself to distraction if he ran the risk of seeing the very person he wanted to avoid? “Look, there's not much I can do about it now. I told Ori I'd take a look at his house tonight. It would be unprofessional to reschedule.”

“If you say so,” Balin said. “But if I were you, I'd consider it.”

“You know very well that I won't.” Fili stood, stretching a crick in his back. “I can handle myself if I run into Thorin – either of them.”

“I'm sure you can.” Balin gave him a soft smile. “Just remember, you can always call on Dwalin if you need him.”

“Will do,” Fili said, certain he wouldn't have to, but knowing full well he'd feel better if he did.

 

* * *

 

An hour later found Fili pulling off into the grass next to a long dirt road. An old house sat on a hill just ahead, its windows boarded up and the paint peeling. _“Arriving at destination,”_ the GPS intoned, and Fili groaned; so much for his hope, however unlikely, that he had made a wrong turn somewhere. This was it.

He surveyed the area as he stepped out of the car. There were no ghosts in the front yard, at least. That was always a plus. Fili hadn't enjoyed the headless specter in the leather motorcycle jacket who had approached him at the last stoplight. Maybe that was the reason he was feeling so jumpy. Fili didn't like ghosts at the best of times, but the ones who had clearly met with a bad end always left him feeling on edge. Not for the first time, Fili envied all the ordinary people who never saw them.

Fili shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and began the trek uphill toward the front door. Dusk was fast approaching, and the late October breeze was growing chill. He pondered the house before him for a moment. It had probably once been a beautiful home, painted in some shade of blue or green, but now the brown of the wood was showing through. Red bricks had been used to make the two chimneys, one on either side of the house, and a wide porch surrounded the lower level.

It was just as Fili was climbing the stairs to the porch that he heard it: a faint noise, almost like a breath or whisper. He stopped walking and willed his heartbeat to slow, as if the beating of it would prevent him from hearing.

_“Go back,”_ a thin voice moaned, so faintly that Fili could not be certain of the words.

“Who's there?” he called after a moment. “Why should I go back?”

His questions were met with silence.

Fili pursed his lips with sudden irritation. “Just my imagination, then,” he muttered. “Should have known.” He pressed a hand to his chest, as if doing so would physically slow his pulse. “Ghosts are hardly ever so subtle.”

Pushing his doubts aside, he raised his right fist and knocked on the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili's crappy week gets a little crappier.

Fili hesitated in front of the open door, his mouth agape. Although the light from outside currently illuminated a worn wooden floor, he could see that elsewhere the house was very dark. His eyes roamed the expanse of the entryway, seeing at least a dozen lit candles shining on the floor.

“What the hell is this?” Fili spat, gesturing at the candles. He'd had his share of strange clients over the years, but Ori Rhys was quickly taking the cake. “You trying to conduct a séance or something? I can tell you right now, I don't do those, and they're a crock of shit, anyway.”

“What?” Ori gasped, looking at Fili with undisguised shock. “The candles? I'm sorry, the house was a recent purchase and we don't have electricity yet...” Ori's eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. “That won't be a problem, will it? Can you, uh... still see ghosts in the dark?” He looked away suddenly, unsure if he had asked something inappropriate.

Fili shrugged. “Sometimes,” he muttered, stepping inside the house at last. He didn't like it when people doubted his skill, even if Ori's question had been reasonable. “Usually ghosts just look like ordinary people to me. It's not like they glow in the dark.”

Ori shut the door with a loud creak, and both men blinked in the resulting darkness. “Then how do you know?” Ori asked in a hushed voice, as if the sudden absence of light prohibited a louder volume. “If they look like the rest of us, I mean.”

Fili smiled bitterly, although he was sure Ori couldn't see it. “Oh, it's pretty easy. If I see something and no one else does, it's a ghost.”

Ori laughed. “That doesn't mean--”

“It _does_.” Fili's voice left no room for argument. “Look, you're not paying me to chat. Do you want me to look at this place or not?”

Silence hung heavy in the air, and Fili grit his teeth. He had a feeling he knew how this would go, and he wasn't looking forward to it: he'd been accused of fraud and thrown out of enough buildings to last a lifetime. As Fili began his usual litany of mental reassurances (“You are _not_ a fraud, you are the _only one_ who's not...”), the slighter man surprised him by saying instead, “Let me grab some candlesticks. We'll make the best of it.”

Fili let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. “No need, I've got this.” He pulled a flashlight from the bag he carried and switched it on. “This isn't the first old house I've walked around in.” _But possibly the first I've gone to after dark._ He didn't know why that thought unnerved him. In an almost unconscious movement, he put his free hand in his pocket, touching the bundle of sage leaves he kept there, just in case. He didn't know how much it would help if things got bad, but he found its presence reassuring nonetheless.

A large staircase stood to Fili's right, and a long, dark corridor stretched out before them. He studied the dust on the floorboards, noting that a number of feet had recently passed that way. “Which rooms have been giving you the most problems?” he asked. “Up or down?”

“All over, really,” Ori said with a shrug, “and never the same room twice. I was hoping you'd give the place a bit of a walk through.”

Fili nodded his head in response before realizing Ori couldn't see it. “That sounds fair,” he murmured belatedly, and shined his light around the open sitting room to his left. The walls were covered in a faded floral print and lined with decaying pieces of furniture, some covered in what appeared to be old bedsheets. Dust protection, Fili supposed, but it seemed like classic haunted house decoration nonetheless. He wondered, not for the first time, if he was being set up. “Nothing here,” he said. “Let's move on.”

The pair walked down the corridor, and Fili opened the first door on his left, shining his light inside the room. Also empty. So far, so good. He turned to leave.

“You aren't going in?” Ori asked from behind him.

“I didn't see anything, so no.” Fili gave Ori a considering look then, though the darkness made it hard to see. His suspicions were growing. It was Halloween night. Ori had insisted on _Fili_ specifically. The house was a horror movie cliché. True, they didn't know each other, but that made no difference; Orson Rhys wouldn't be the first near-stranger to try and test Fili's skill (or his word) with a festive prank or two. Perhaps it was to be expected from _ordinary_ people, that skepticism of the paranormal, but Fili felt his anger rising anyway. “Have you had problems with this room?” he asked, as calmly as he could.

“No,” Ori admitted, oblivious to Fili's train of thought. “I just want you to be thorough.”

Fili held the door open with a sardonic grin. “After you, then.”

Ori paused and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _You're the ghost hunter; shouldn't you go first?_ (or perhaps that was Fili's conscience reading into it). They stood that way for the briefest of moments, and then Ori merely shrugged and walked inside.

Fili followed after a moment, shining his flashlight in a lazy loop around the room. No pop-up skeletons or giant spiders to be seen. No ghosts, either – real _or_ pretend. “Feel anything strange?”

“Not this time, no.”

“Great,” Fili murmured, lowering his light. And he was officially an asshole. Fili turned on his heel and made his way back to the corridor. He really needed to stop acting so paranoid; after all, not everyone was going to treat him like Thorin had. And Ori seemed like a nice guy. Strange, but nice. Everything was fine.

Fili approached the second door in the hall. Feeling reassured that Ori wasn't plotting something, he stepped inside without a second thought.

The flashlight died almost instantly.

“Shit,” Fili muttered, frantically patting his pockets in his blindness. The sage was still there, but he had neglected to bring batteries – which probably would have been the more useful item, if he were being honest with himself. “Ori, my light's out. Do you have a spare somewhere, or some batteries?”

“I'll get those candlesticks,” Ori's voice called from somewhere behind him. “I'll be right back.”

A strange feeling came over Fili suddenly. He wanted to protest, insist on staying together. But that was stupid; the room was empty, and Ori was just going down the hall.

Even so, Fili turned his eyes in the direction of the hallway. The room was pitch-black, but he could just make out the faint glow of candlelight from the corridor. He approached the door to follow Ori, when suddenly he felt a swift gust of air against his face. The ground trembled, and then his ears were ringing.

It took him longer than it should have to realize the door had slammed shut. He was on it in an instant, only to turn the handle and find it wouldn't budge. He grit his teeth and suppressed the urge to start pounding on the door, although he couldn't stop a small growl of frustration from escaping. So Ori _had_ been messing with him. Fili gripped the doorknob again and made a halfhearted attempt to turn it, knowing it would be futile.

He was not entirely surprised to hear a set of footsteps racing down the hall. “What just happened?” Ori called frantically.

It took an effort to remain calm. “You appear to have a draft in here,” Fili said, trying to keep his voice even. He wouldn't give Ori the satisfaction of sounding unnerved. “The door slammed; seems to be stuck. Can you open it?”

Fili realized he hadn't gotten a good look at the room before his light died, and he wondered who might be hiding within. One of Ori's brothers? A friend? He could feel eyes on the back of his head and he tensed, exhaling as quietly as he could. He waited for Ori – or his accomplice's – next move.

He wasn't prepared for Ori opening the door as if it were nothing. “Seems fine to me,” the redhead said, and suddenly there he was, illuminated by the candle he held in his left hand.

Fili felt like screaming. The door had been locked, or at the very least stuck, just a moment before, but Ori had opened it instantly. “Do these doors lock automatically?” he gasped, and to his relief his voice sounded more exasperated than scared. Fili wondered for a moment if the door slamming _had_ been due to a draft, but that still didn't explain how Ori could have opened it so quickly. Then again, how had the other man killed his flashlight...?

Ori stooped down and picked up a second candlestick before handing it to Fili, effectively snapping him from his thoughts. “No, these doors don't have locks at all.”

Fili bent his head to examine the doorknob himself, but as far as he could tell, Ori was telling the truth. He didn't know what to make of that. “Let's check this room out again, now that we have light,” Ori suggested, and Fili didn't have it in him to argue, despite the voice in his head that was telling him to leave immediately.

Several minutes later they re-emerged from the room, Ori with his shoulders slumped and Fili with a heavy frown. “I've had problems with this room before,” Ori was saying. “and I thought maybe the door slamming shut was the ghost.”

“There is no ghost,” Fili said, “at least not that I've seen.”

“Could the ghost be avoiding you?” Ori asked, dismay clear in his voice. “Maybe it doesn't want to be found?”

Fili shook his head dismissively. “That's not it, ghosts don't hide. They're used to being ignored, so they're always looking for attention.”

“Then why isn't it trying to find us?”

“Because you _don't have a ghost_.” Fili tried to keep his expression neutral, but he had a feeling he hadn't succeeded. “I tried to tell you before. You should have listened and saved yourself a chunk of change.” _Not to mention my mental sanity._

Ori lowered his candle, and for a moment his face was unreadable in the flickering candlelight. Fili began to wonder if he'd be going home early that night after all. “Well, I suppose I've already paid you,” Ori said at last in a low voice, dashing all of Fili's hopes, “so let's see this through. The library is next.”

It was difficult to see much by candlelight, but Fili could just make out a number of shelves lining the walls of the room as he stepped inside. He could also see that a mahogany desk, broad and ornate, sat near the back. Fili approached the nearest shelf, surprised to see books about witchcraft interspersed with volumes on the area's local history. He pulled one off the shelf at random, a thick blue tome with brown pages, and quickly leafed through. One name seemed to stand out: _Thorin Oakenshield._ Fili scowled and slammed the book shut, only to cough at the resulting cloud of dust. “These books came with the house?”

“Yeah,” Ori responded. “I'm a little embarrassed to say I haven't looked at them yet, though. I love books, but I don't love this room.”

Fili shoved the book back where he had found it. “Why?”

“It never feels _right_.” Ori edged back toward the doorway. “You don't see anything in here?” His voice sounded higher than it had before.

“Not so far,” Fili said as he turned and walked toward the desk. He looked over to Ori. He was surprised to see his hand was shaking, and the shadows from his candle were dancing erratically on the wall. Ori looked... well. It was trite, but Ori looked as if he'd seen a ghost. “What's wrong?”

“I-It's happening,” Ori said, his voice rising in pitch. “Again. You don't feel it? Someone-- someone's watching. Me. You.”

“Ori, calm down, I don't see anything--”

“We're not alone!”

Fili set his candle down on the desk. “Ori, everything's going to be fine, all right? I'm going to try something.” He let out a breath, knowing that anything he tried would be pointless, but as he watched Ori tremble against the wall he felt a surge of empathy. After all, how many times had Fili himself seen something no one else could see, and felt fear that no one else could understand?

Fili cleared his throat. “Hello?” he called loudly, feeling slightly ridiculous. “Any ghosts, any spirits? I can hear you, just speak up.” Nothing. Fili turned to Ori then, whose eyes were clenched shut. “There's no ghost here,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “I told you, the second they have visitors, they make their presence known.” As Fili picked up his candle, he noticed a book lying on the desk, open to a page near the back. Fili gave it a quick glance and frowned.

“ _Spell for Resurrecting the Dead,”_ was scrawled across the top of the page in a thin cursive.

Fili stared at the page for a long moment, his brow furrowed. The dust on the desk's surface had been disturbed, and Fili realized the book had recently been placed there. “You said you haven't read any of the books in here, right?” he called, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. “Who do you think left this here – one of your brothers?”

“They're not big readers,” Ori responded with a small voice, glancing at the desk. “What's it about?”

Fili gingerly picked up the book to inspect its cover and grimaced. “Necromancy. Sound like one of them?”

“Absolutely not!” Ori said with a shake of his head. “Well, maybe Nori,” he amended, “except...”

“What now?” Fili groaned as Ori's voice trailed off.

“I walked in here earlier, just before I went to your office in fact...” Ori hesitated. “There was nothing on the desk then, and my brothers have been gone all day. They're out of town.”

Fili set the book down with a dull thud. If he hadn't had a bad feeling about the house before, then he _definitely_ had one now. Ghosts weren't subtle. And if it _were_ a ghost, it would have spoken to him long before now. No, something else was afoot, and Fili was starting to think he was out of his depth. Someone had been here. And as for Ori... Well, Fili still wasn't sure what to make of the smaller man, but he didn't think a practical jokester would have gone to such lengths to unnerve him. Not really.

With a start, Fili remembered something Balin had said to him that day. _“There will be other investigators,”_ he had said. _“I imagine Thorin Durin might be very interested in the warlock Thorin Oakenshield.”_

Thorin. Fili's mind was reeling. Had Thorin really been there? Could Thorin still be inside? And would he _really_ stoop so low as to trespass upon someone's house-- oh, who was he kidding, of _course_ Thorin would. Thorin had proven himself capable of anything.

Fili glanced at Ori, who was now huddled on the floor, and reached for his smartphone. “I'm making a phone call,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I'm sorry for the wait! This was actually supposed to be a much longer chapter, but I made the decision to cut it in half so I could post something sooner. Unfortunately, this half is a bit on the boring side, but I hope you'll stick around for the next part -- things are going to pick up pretty fast!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili encounters a figure from the past, but it's not who he was expecting.

Fili's heart hammered in his chest as the phone rang. He had a sneaking suspicion Ori was exactly right – someone was watching them, or at the very least, someone was inside the house who wasn't supposed to be. A voice in the back of his head insisted that calling the police would have been a better idea, but Fili dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. He had a good idea who he was dealing with, and he could handle it alone.

Well, nearly alone. Phone calls to close friends didn't count, did they?

Dwalin picked up before Fili's second thoughts could get the best of him. “Change your mind about trick-or-treating?” the older man asked, his deep voice tinged with mirth.

Fili almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea. “Very funny,” he said, glancing around the darkened library. “Listen, I have a situation, and I need some advice.”

“A situation?” Dwalin laughed at that. “Buddy, it's Halloween. Whatever it is, you've been set up.”

“Possibly,” Fili admitted tensely, stealing a glance at Ori, “but let's assume that I haven't. I'm on an assignment--”

“Stop right there,” Dwalin cut in, his voice rising. “Like, work? A work assignment? What the hell are you doing on an assignment without me?”

Fili swallowed the urge to shout back; he could have said any number of things in response, such as how he didn't need Dwalin's permission to do his job, but he had a feeling the words wouldn't hold much weight. Not with the way he'd been acting lately. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I screwed up, all right?” he said quietly, conscious of Ori's presence. “You can chew me out later, but just hear me out first.” He paused then, debating whether to tell Dwalin his suspicions about Thorin.

“Let me guess,” Dwalin cut in after a beat, “you've found a malicious spirit that you can't talk your way around, and now you want me to get rid of it. Well, too bad,” he spat, and Fili could have sworn he heard the dull thud of his friend's fist hitting a hard surface. “I seriously can't exorcize it right now. I'm low on supplies since, you know, _I thought we weren't going out tonight.”_

“Cut the guilt trip,” Fili muttered. “We haven't found a spirit. I just have a question.”

_"We?"_

Fili briefly explained Ori's problem and what they had encountered in the old house. “I'll be honest,” he finished, running a hand through his hair, “I have no idea if it means anything, this book being open to a resurrection spell, but it's kind of creeping me out. Is this kind of magic even possible?” _And what does Thorin want with it?_ he thought, but he left that part unsaid.

Silence. “Dwalin? You there?” Fili could hear nothing except his pulse and Ori's heavy breathing from across the room. He stole a quick look at his phone and bit back a curse: sure enough, the call had been dropped. He frowned, staring at the upper left corner of his screen. How was there suddenly no service?

He turned to Ori with the intention of asking about the area's reception when he felt a breath at his ear. _“Danger,”_ a child's voice whispered.

Fili dropped his phone and twisted with a violent jerk, but there was nothing. He groped for the candle he had left on the desk.

_“Run!”_ the unseen child yelled.

“What's happened?” Ori cried, leaping up from the floor. “What do you see?”

“You didn't hear that?” Fili started to ask, but a new sound stopped the words in his throat. He looked at Ori deliberately then and held a finger to his lips. A second passed. He heard the squeak of floorboards somewhere over his head once more. _Footsteps._

“Who's upstairs, Ori?”

The other man's eyes were impossibly wide, and the candlestick he held was shaking so much that Fili thought he might drop it. “No one,” he whispered in a nearly inaudible voice. “No one should be there. My brothers are out of town...”

Fili grabbed his candlestick and raced toward Ori, feeling his smartphone crunch underneath his foot. He swore under his breath but moved on, attempting to push it from his mind. “Ori, this is important,” Fili said in a hushed voice, placing a hand on the smaller man's trembling shoulder. “Did you hear what just happened?”

“Someone's walking upstairs.”

“And that's the only thing you heard?”

“Yes! What else was there?”

“A voice,” Fili admitted, and his heart sank. If Ori had not heard the child speak, then that could only mean one thing. He gripped the sage in his pocket. “Do you have a phone? You need to find a signal, you need to call the police--”

_He's awake!_

“--he's awake,” Fili repeated without knowing why, the child's voice ringing in his ears, tugging at a memory that he wasn't prepared to face. “Ori, get out. You need to get out.” He was babbling.

Ori pulled away with a jerk and ran from the room, racing down the corridor toward the front door. Fili followed him until he realized he could not, a wave of vertigo hitting him so suddenly that he nearly fell over. Distantly, he heard the creak of the front door and oh, suddenly there was _light_ again, blood red all across the floor, the last remnants of the day's dying sun.

_Fee, you need to run!_

“I can't,” he moaned and leaned against the nearest wall, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew that voice. He absolutely did not want to see who it belonged to. “Frerin, how...” _How are you here?_

He had expected to hear his brother's voice again, but instead a pain so intense he thought he might vomit pierced his skull. He slid to the floor with a pathetic moan. He could sense something... Above him? From the stairs? Something he had never felt before, a roiling and palpable energy that alerted some primal instinct, deep within him, to _run._

Fili forced his eyes open. Frerin was nowhere to be seen. A trick? He pressed against the wall and attempted to stand, the mildewy floral paper sticking to his hand, but his dizziness returned in full force. He fell to his knees with a groan.

As he looked up, he could see a tall, dark-haired figure standing on the staircase before him, someone powerful and dangerous. “Thorin,” Fili gasped, but that was wrong, wrong and yet it was _right._ That was the last thing he remembered.

 

* * *

 

Fili knew he was dreaming. The restaurant he was now sitting inside had occupied his waking thoughts so often that he figured it was only a matter of time before his subconscious decided to visit it as well. Still, Fili knew that he did not want to relive this event, not now and not ever.

It was their second date. Fili looked across the table at Thorin, and he placed his hand on top of the older man's with a small grin. Thorin frowned, and Fili withdrew with a quick mental chastisement. Thorin was quite a bit older than him, and for all Fili knew he was old-fashioned about public displays of affection. Maybe he was even closeted. Fili took a sip of water with a slight grimace; he wasn't sure if he could handle a relationship like that, in addition to his own situation, but now really wasn't the time to think about it.

He looked to Thorin and studied him for the briefest of moments. He couldn't help it; he had a good feeling about this one... but maybe that was just his desperation talking. Fili had a tendency to attract morbid sorts and repel just about everyone else, but Thorin... well, he seemed normal enough. And as a bonus, he worked with the paranormal as well. That had to count for something, didn't it? No need for them to talk about the supernatural, surely, when they both got enough of that during the day.

Still. Fili picked at a tear in his menu as the silence between them grew. Thorin wasn't talkative, and Fili didn't know what he could say that would interest the older man. He had no idea what Thorin saw in him, what would impress him, what would convince him that Fili was worth his time. And really, what was he other than a freak who saw the dead? Maybe he should just spit the whole thing out and get it over with. Perhaps Thorin would even believe him.

It was Thorin who eventually broke the silence. “Tell me more about your business,” he said softly, sipping at his wine. It was the perfect chance to reveal everything, but Fili's stomach tied up in knots at the thought. “I was intrigued by what little you said at our last meeting.”

_Meeting?_ That seemed oddly formal. Fili speared an olive with his fork. “There's not much more to say, really,” he muttered, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He wanted this guy to like him, but how did he do that? “We're pretty small, just four guys, but we have a reputation for getting the job done.” He stuffed a mouthful of food into his mouth without really wanting to, conscious that his attempt to talk himself up had been fairly pathetic.

Thorin set his fork down. “And that job is... what, exactly? I'm picturing something out of _Ghost Busters,_ to be completely frank with you.”

Fili laughed weakly, though Thorin did not, and deliberated about how much he should say. “Uh, not exactly. It's actually pretty simple. If someone has a problem, we can confirm if there's a spirit. Then, if the client wants it removed, we do that too... but that part's a bit tricky.” _That_ was an understatement, if ever there was one, but he figured Thorin didn't need to know all the gory details. Suddenly Fili laughed again. “Now that you mention it, maybe it is a little like _Ghost Busters.”_

Thorin's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You've left out the most interesting part, I think.” He smiled then, ever so slightly. “What's your secret? What tools do you use to find ghosts?”

Fili smiled. “Oh, I don't like give away any business secrets before the third date.” He reached for his water again and gave himself a mental pat on the back; that had been one of his better lines, if he did say so himself, but as he looked across the table he could see that Thorin was anything but amused.

“A date?” the older man repeated, his mouth agape. Fili could practically see the realization dawn in the other man's eyes as he grimaced and pulled his hand from the table top. “Is that what you think this is?”

Fili's face immediately started to burn, but with embarrassment or anger he couldn't tell. “I've been flirting with you like crazy since we _met_ last week,” he blurted, his fist clenching where it rested on the table. “What the hell do _you_ think this is?”

“A business meeting,” Thorin grumbled, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Bullshit,” Fili hissed, the details of their previous encounters flashing through his mind. “That's complete bullshit. I kissed you last week, at the coffee shop--”

“--on the cheek,” Thorin cut in, looking up at Fili with an unreadable expression. “You're young, I thought maybe that's what kids do these days--”

“Oh, come on!” Fili yelled, before realizing with a start that he had the attention of most of the restaurant. Suddenly he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He turned back to Thorin. “You led me on,” he said quietly, his voice thick, “and I'm not sticking around to find out why. I'm out of here.”

“Philip, sit down,” Thorn demanded, and Fili hated that tiny, pathetic part of himself that obeyed. That part of himself that was still hoping Thorin would explain it had just been some horrible joke, even though he knew, somehow, that Thorin wasn't the kind of person who even _understood_ jokes, let alone told them.

“You better make this good,” Fili said in a tight voice. He took a gulp of water to calm himself. “Talk.”

Thorin exhaled loudly. “I'm sorry for the miscommunication. I am. But I asked you here because I need your help,” he admitted. “I need to find a ghost, but I can't...” His tongue shot out to lick his lips, and Fili loathed himself for watching it. “I haven't been successful on my own.”

Ghosts. That's what it always fucking came down to, wasn't it? He should have known that this date, this date that wasn't even _actually_ date, would have around to that, because that's what always fucking happened. Ghosts were either the thing that drew people toward him, for any multitude of creepy reasons, or they were the thing that scared them away. “Well, I hate to disappoint,” Fili said, failing entirely at keeping the bitterness from his voice, “but you've got the wrong guy. I can't find ghosts at random, all right?” _And why do you even think I would help you after all of this?_ He moved to stand up again.

Thorin's hand shot out to grasp Fili's wrist, keeping him in place. “They say you're the best,” he said, his deep voice tinged with just a hint of desperation. “Whatever tools you need, I have them. Infrared thermometers, EMF meters--”

Fili snorted with derision. “No one who knows what they're doing actually uses that shit.”

Thorin pulled back at once with a jerk, clearly stung. “Then how do you find them?” he growled. “What am I doing wrong?”

“I'll give you a hint, Durin,” Fili said, leaning close. He knew he should just walk away, but he couldn't stop a tiny, vindictive part of his mind from taking over. “You don't need tools if you're talented, got me? And from the sound of it, you're not.” He stood up for the last time. “If you want my advice, get out of the ghost business, and leave it to those who actually know what they're doing.”

Thorin grabbed Fili's sleeve as he walked past. “I'm going to figure out your secret, and when I do, I'm telling everyone,” he hissed. Fili yanked his arm away and stormed from the restaurant, not wanting to admit that Thorin's threat had shaken him.

As he walked toward his car, the night air cooling his face, he berated himself for the colossal fuck up that the entire night had turned out to be. How had he gotten such mixed signals from Thorin? Was he completely clueless? Or was he just so lonely that he had started to see things that weren't really there? Oh, now _that_ was a dangerous line of thought. He slammed a fist against his car with a muffled shout, breathing heavily. He had never been so completely wrong about something, or so humiliated, in his entire life.

His one comfort, on the drive home that night, was that at least he would never see that self-serving _sonuvabitch_ Thorin Durin again. But he had been wrong about that, too.

 

* * *

 

Another memory, just as unwelcome as the last. It was an old memory, one of the oldest he had.

Frerin had been dead for less than a week, and Fili was old enough to know he was never coming back. That was why he was surprised to see his younger brother sitting in front of the window, just as he had always done.

Well, not quite _just_ as he had always done.

“What happened to your eyes?” Fili asked, taking a seat beside the smaller boy. He supposed he should have asked what he was doing there, or how, but he found he didn't really want to know. It was enough that Frerin was there again. He had been gone for a very long time.

“What's wrong with them?” Frerin asked, and his voice was scratchy, like he was catching a cold.

Fili wanted to look away, but couldn't. “Well, they're red,” he said, “like they're bleeding...” He bit his lip and hoped Frerin wouldn't feel sad. He still hadn't been told how his brother had died, but he thought his eyes might be a clue. “Do you want me to get Mom? Maybe she could help.”

Frerin looked down, and his shoulders began to shake. “Don't leave, Fee,” he said in a small voice. “I missed you.”

Fili wanted to give his brother a hug, but something told him that wouldn't be a good idea.

So, Fili sat with his brother for the rest of the afternoon, afraid he might disappear at any time, but Frerin didn't. Not for a very long time, at least, and not before Fili begged him to.

And that was something Fili would never forgive himself for.

 

* * *

 

His head hurt -- as sure a sign as any that he was no longer dreaming. Reluctantly, Fili opened his eyes. He was alone and it was dark, and his mouth tasted of blood.

“I see you're awake,” a low voice murmured. It sounded human, much to Fili's relief, as well as young, as if it belonged to a man around his own age.

Fili moved to stand up, only to realize his hands and feet were both bound together. Panic flooded his mind and he began to struggle, desperate to free himself, _somehow,_ despite the odds.

“Stop that,” came the mysterious voice again, and Fili felt a warm hand against his shoulder. He kicked again, rebelliously, and then a light flickered next to Fili's head. Startled, he jumped as much as his confines would allow as the visage of a handsome young man materialized before him, his brown eyes glittering in the light of the candle he held.

“Who are you?” Fili asked stupidly, before his mind could think of something better.

The other man's eyes narrowed at the question, and with a sudden movement he leaned in, his stubble scratching Fili's cheek as he did. “My name is Thorin Oakenshield,” the young man hissed, “and I want to know what you're doing in _my_ house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. Can you believe most of this was supposed to be in the first chapter?? :/
> 
> Anyway, sorry again for the wait! I think the next chapter will be out a little faster (although I kind of have the urge to write something based in Middle-earth after watching BotFA... grrr). Also, thank you to everyone who has left a comment -- I've really appreciated the feedback! And let me know if there are any mistakes -- I'm posting this in a hurry :/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay – this story is more or less planned out, but I just could not get this chapter right. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I'm posting anyway because I really want to get this story finished. I hope some of you are still interested in reading it!
> 
> Anyway, just a reminder that there are TWO characters named Thorin in this story (probably because I hate myself and decided to make this more complicated than it needed to be, ha). They are:
> 
> #1: Thorin Durin, who is basically the Thorin we all know and love. He's Fili's rival and he's been a bit of a dick so far, but he miiiiiight get better? He'll be referred to in the text as “Thorin”.
> 
> #2: Thorin Oakenshield, a warlock of myth and legend!! He briefly showed up at the end of the last chapter, and he looks an awful lot like Aidan Turner for some reason??? He'll be referred to as “Oakenshield” (for now, ha), just to help you all keep them straight.
> 
> Hope that helps :)

Fili stared at the young man with the glittering brown eyes, momentarily at a loss for words. He could still feel the scratch of the other man's stubble against his cheek, though Oakenshield (as he had called himself) had long since moved away. Fili groaned and leaned back against the hardwood floor, but the pressure against his head did nothing to relieve the throbbing pain at his temples.

“I'm still waiting for an answer,” the young man said, his voice almost too soft to be heard. “Believe me, I will find out, but I thought we might do this the nice way.”

Fili opened his eyes and watched the dark shadows as they flickered, ever so faintly, on the ceiling above. He didn't think he recognized this room, but then again, it was so dark that it was hard to tell. His stomach clenched as he considered the possibility that he wasn't even in Ori's house at all; he had no idea how long he had been out, or where he had been taken.

But his unfamiliar surroundings weren't the worst of it. The young man's voice still rang in his ears: _“My name is Thorin Oakenshield.”_ But that was impossible. Thorin Oakenshield was a legend, a warlock who had been dead for centuries – if he had ever existed at all. And the young man sitting before him, in his ratty jeans and his checked flannel shirt, somehow did not fit Fili's image of a ghost who had long been dead. Was it a joke, then? A prank? At that point, it was all he could hope for. Fili did not want to consider the other possibility, one too terrible to even contemplate: that he was at the mercy of someone completely out of their mind.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the press of a cool hand against his jaw. _“Speak,”_ a voice implored, and under different circumstances Fili might have found its deep timbre pleasant.

He opened his mouth – to say what, he wasn't sure – but all that came out was a painful moan. That was the only warning he had before his stomach revolted, and Fili twisted his head to the side so as not to choke on his vomit.

Oakenshield huffed loudly, retracting his hand at once. “Disgusting,” he muttered, but Fili was too preoccupied by the heaving sensation in his gut to feel properly offended. “I wonder if you aren't reacting badly to my magic.” Before Fili had time to process what he had heard, Oakenshield's hand was back, pressing lightly against his temple. “This may help,” the young man murmured.

The change was almost instantaneous; Fili's stomach calmed and his headache cleared, and he suddenly had an odd image in his mind, of a pool of water that had been skimmed of muck. But as the pain in his head receded, it was quickly replaced with something else. He glared at the young man and bared his teeth. “What the hell did you just do to me?” he growled, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “Who _are_ you?!”

The warlock gave Fili a distinctly unamused look. “How cute, that you think you can make demands of me,” he sneered. “Especially after I just went to the trouble of _saving_ you. Did you like suffocating on my magic, I wonder?” He stood up with a swift movement, and his tall body loomed over Fili's prone form. “If this is the thanks I get, then next time I'll just leave you there to suffer and choke.

“And if you care to remember,” the warlock continued with narrowed eyes, “I already introduced myself. Perhaps you've heard of me.”

“But Thorin Oakenshield is dead!” Fili sputtered, before his mind could think better of it.

The warlock looked at Fili for a long moment, as if he were privy to some joke that Fili was not. “You're the man who sees ghosts,” he said at last, “and you've a dead man standing right in front of you. Can't you tell?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked away from the candle's faint circle of light. Fili anxiously began to crane his neck for any sign of him, but the creak of the floorboards was his only clue to Oakenshield's location.

Fili knew when he was being taunted, and he also knew he wasn't above falling for the bait. “You know me,” he hissed, his mind racing, listing every possible enemy who might try to hit him where it hurt the most. He could certainly think of at least one. “You bastard,” he roared, “what the hell do you want with me?” He wasn't sure if he was screaming at the young man or at Thorin Durin himself, so sure was he that the other man was behind this. “Where are you?!”

The footsteps stopped. “I assure you, I've never seen you before,” Oakenshield's voice intoned from the shadows, “certainly not while I was alive 400 years ago... or anytime after.” The floorboards creaked loudly then, and it was Fili's only clue that Oakenshield was circling again. “But I confess,” the voice continued, “I was observing your thoughts as you slept, and I learned a few interesting things.”

“Observing my thoughts,” Fili scoffed. “Is this for real?”

“Of course,” Oakenshield said with a note of surprise. “It's merely dream watching.” Then he snorted dismissively. “Don't look so shocked; observing the thoughts of a sleeping man is something _any_ witch can do. Unfortunately,” the warlock continued, “you had the impertinence to wake before I learned everything I wanted to know.”

Fili raised an eyebrow, feeling distinctly unimpressed. Was this crap really the best Thorin could come up with? “You're going to have to do a little better than that,” he said. “Tell me, _Thorin,_ what else did you learn about me tonight?”

Oakenshield was quiet for a moment, and all Fili could hear was his own ragged breathing. “Your brother was a cute child,” the warlock eventually said in a low, dangerous voice. “Frerin, was it? Tell me, what happened to him?”

Fili's breath caught in his throat, and immediately he felt as if he had been doused with ice water. Unbidden, images from his dream, and worse – _What happened to Frerin, indeed?_ – invaded his mind. Fili clenched his teeth, staring helplessly at the ceiling. He didn't know how Thorin could have possibly known what he had dreamed about. He didn't think Thorin had even known he'd had a brother. “You've made your point,” Fili said in a tight voice, as soon as he could trust himself to speak again. “You-- you're a wizard, you're a mind-reader, whatever. But you're also,” he continued stubbornly, in a louder voice and heedless of the consequences, “a liar.”

“Am I?” The sound of Oakenshield's footsteps stopped. “And why do you doubt me?”

“You touched my face earlier,” Fili said, his thoughts racing as he tried to sort them. “I can hear you when you walk. Ghosts have no body, so they can't--” He stopped speaking abruptly, as a strange feeling raced throughout his body, his limbs feeling lighter than they had before. Without thinking, and without knowing how he even knew he could, he sat up. “Ghosts can't touch the living,” Fili murmured, feeling dazed and yet marveling at his sudden mobility. He held his hand in front of him in a stupor; had he ever been tied up at all? His eyes wildly sought for Oakenshield, but all he saw was darkness. What was _happening?_

Before his rapid thoughts could escalate into a full-blown panic attack, Fili saw a movement to the side and he turned, just in time to see Oakenshield step into the candlelight again. “Is that how it is?” the young man asked, laughing slightly. “I see I can't fool you then.” He stretched his arms out to either side and smiled widely, as if to put himself on display. It should have been laughable, but instead Fili felt deeply disturbed. “Here is the story of my rebirth! Once upon a time, a young man in _desperate_ need of a haircut made the mistake of breaking into _my_ home and touching things that didn't belong to him. Now he is _mine,”_ the warlock boasted, throwing a hand against his chest, “and Thorin Oakenshield lives once again!”

Fili blinked, feeling more confused than ever, but with a start he remembered the open book he had found in Ori's library. He suddenly wished he had given the page a closer look. It had been a spell to bring the dead back to life, but what did that have to do with capturing some boy...? And it was then that he realized the truth. “Are you trying to say you've _possessed_ someone?” Fili gasped. The warlock's clothing suddenly made a lot more sense.

Oakenshield frowned slightly. “'Possession' sounds so awfully crude,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest with a jerky movement. “It was the boy who trespassed, who read the resurrection spell – can I be blamed for that? But yes, it's his body I'm using now.”

“And the 'boy,'” Fili repeated, privately thinking that Oakenshield's borrowed form seemed a little too old for such a designation, “where is he now? _His_ spirit, I mean.” Fili swallowed uneasily; he had seen an untold number of ghosts in his life, but he had never before witnessed a spirit possession. In fact, he had absolutely no idea how to save the young man sitting in front of him – or if it was even possible. To his shame, the less gallant part of Fili's mind was already insisting he take advantage of his unexpected freedom of movement and _run_. He could save himself, if nothing else.

Oakenshield waved a hand dismissively, oblivious to Fili's train of thought. “The boy could be dead for all I know. Why should I care?” The warlock smiled then, a cruel grin that somehow didn't seem to belong on the face that bore it. “It hardly matters. I have no intention of giving this vessel up, for I quite enjoy being alive again.”

Fili bit his tongue, though he wanted to argue that possessing a living person didn't exactly count as being “alive”. Even so, with a physical body under his control, Fili knew he couldn't treat Oakenshield like an ordinary ghost. But what else could he do? Not for the first time, Fili regretted that he had not brought Dwalin with him on this assignment; he was in completely over his head.

But it was the thought of his friend that gave Fili an idea. _“If you run into a malicious spirit and I'm not there,”_ Dwalin had told him, handing over what looked like a bunch of dried leaves, _“burn this. Ghosts hate the stuff.”_ Fili had never used the sage leaves before, but it looked like now would be the time to try. If he still had it, anyway. Carefully, so as not to attract the warlock's attention, Fili brushed a hand against his pocket, and was relieved to feel the crunch of the dried leaves still inside.

Without any warning, Oakenshield snapped his head toward the doorway with a sudden jerk, and Fili retracted his hand at once, as if stung. “We're not alone,” the warlock murmured, his back upright and stiff. “I seem to be popular tonight. My fourth guest of the evening!”

Fourth guest? Fili hadn't heard a car or any sirens, but perhaps Ori had called the police after all? He pushed the thought aside as quickly as it had come; he couldn't afford to assume that anyone had come to help him. But even so, anything that distracted the warlock could only work to Fili's advantage. “I didn't hear anything,” he offered, as he slowly inched his way toward the nearest candlestick. “Are you completely sure someone else is here?”

Oakenshield snorted, and when he spoke, his disdain was palpable. “A warlock can always tell when someone has entered their domain. Don't be a fool.”

“Well, pardon me for speaking, then,” Fili grumbled. “Just figured the smart thing to do would be to check it out...”

“Which I intend to do,” Oakenshield said, and gave Fili a pointed look, “while you stay here.”

“Absolutely,” Fili said quickly, throwing his hands up in what he hoped was a show of goodwill – either that, or he had succeeded in making himself look even more suspicious. Fili just had to pray that Oakenshield would not immobilize him in any way again, otherwise the feeble plan he had concocted would be for nothing. “I'll stay here, I definitely don't want to get mixed up with anyone who would, er, trespass in your home...” Oh, now he was definitely laying it on too thick.

Still, Oakenshield looked pleased. “I'm glad to see you've learned the value of obedience,” he said, and made for the room's sole exit. “You will not leave this room.” Fili suddenly had the eerie feeling that, though Oakenshield had not restrained him in any discernible way, he would not be able to leave the room no matter what he did. He was effectively trapped.

Trapped, but not without options.

As soon as the warlock's back was turned, Fili put his plan into motion. As carefully as possible, he removed the sage bundle from his pocket. The leaves were held together with a thin cotton string, but over the course of the evening, a few had become dislodged or broken off entirely. Fili winced; he hoped the sage would still be effective despite the bruising it had taken. Brushing the thought aside, he took a deep breath and held one end of the sage stick over the candle. This was his one shot at saving himself – as well as the idiot who had gotten himself possessed in the first place, whoever he was.

It seemed to take an eternity for the sage leaves to ignite, even though Fili knew it could have only been a few seconds. But as the flame grew, so too did Fili's doubts – what could he really hope to achieve with the sage? Would it even work to repel a spirit if it had already taken a living host? Perhaps Oakenshield would spontaneously vacate the body he had stolen? Either that, or Fili's rebellion – such as it was – would do nothing more than make the warlock angry. With a frustrated sigh, Fili raised the sage to his mouth and blew out the flame. Dark tendrils of fragrant smoke began to lazily rise toward the ceiling, and Fili walked around the room to more evenly distribute the scent.

Fili had barely completed his circuit when he heard a rapid set of footsteps from the hall, and he looked back to see Oakenshield's enraged form in the doorway. “What are you _doing?”_ the warlock shrieked, and lifted a hand to cover his nose. “Do you have _any_ idea what you've done?”

“Freshening up?” Fili suggested, rather unconvincingly. “It smelled a bit musty in here...”

“I'm no fool,” Oakenshield growled, “though I can't say the same for you. How am I supposed to deal with our intruder without my magic?”

“What-- without your magic?” Fili looked at the still-smoldering sage in his hand. “This disabled your magic?”

The warlock frowned. “What did you think it was going to do?”

“Not that,” Fili admitted, “but I'll take it.” He approached the doorway, feeling more self-assured than he had in what seemed like hours. If Oakenshield had no magic, then he was powerless to stop Fili from leaving – and that was as positive an outcome as he could have hoped for, he supposed. But as he neared the warlock, his stomach turned uneasily, and he found he could no longer look at his face – not Oakenshield's, no, but the young man with the glittering brown eyes, the man who was a hostage inside his own mind. The man he was about to abandon and leave for dead. “If you'll excuse me?” Fili mumbled, feeling worse, somehow, than he had all evening.

“Oh, I wouldn't advise that,” Oakenshield drawled, and if he had noticed Fili's sudden change in mood, he made no show of it. “The sage effect should be temporary, and once my magic returns I will waste no time in hunting you down again, _ghost-seer_.”

Fili's jaw clenched. “Could you just let me go?” he snapped. Every second he stayed was another second that his self-loathing increased. “I'll leave you alone if you do the same for me, can we made that deal?” At that, the warlock was uncharacteristically silent, and Fili swore. “Seriously, I've got nothing to do with you, I didn't even know this was your house or whatever – it's a complete mistake that I'm here and I just want to leave, all right?”

“It's not that simple,” Oakenshield said, and inexplicably his expression softened. “You may think our meeting was a 'mistake', but it wasn't, I can assure you...”

Whatever the warlock intended to say next, Fili would never know, because at that moment a familiar voice called out: “Fili! Are you there?”

He sighed heavily – with relief, he thought, but he couldn't be sure. He opened his mouth and called back, “I'm here, Dwalin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I REALLY hope this chapter wasn't too confusing, but if it was, *please* let me know! I don't have a beta reader, so it's a little hard for me to tell if I've explained things well enough or not :/
> 
> Anyway, Chapter 5 will hopefully be out much sooner, but just in case, you can follow me on [tumblr](http://khafushun.tumblr.com/), and I'll be sure to post any writing updates/delays from now on. And again, thanks so much for the comments on the last chapter – I know this took _way_ too long, but you really helped me get this written :)
> 
> Similarly, if you're interested in reading about any of the experiments I conducted with sage (which is a thing I totally did for this chapter...), that's on tumblr as well under the [my writing](http://khafushun.tumblr.com/tagged/my-writing%3A-R%26S) tag. But I promise, no ghosts were actually harmed :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, a chapter! Er, the plot hole that gave me so much trouble in the last chapter reared its ugly head again, and I had to re-write this a few times... :/ Hopefully by now the issue has been dealt with!
> 
> I'm going to update the tags again as soon as I get this posted -- really sorry for not doing that before! I think, if you've come with me this far, that none of them should be a surprise, but I'll try to be better about that from now on. (Unless one of the tags could be considered a spoiler, anyway! Don't you hate it when you're spoiled by the tags?)
> 
> Anyway, that's it! I hope you enjoy it -- this chapter is actually almost 2x as long as all the previous ones, so feel free to think of this as two chapters in one!! :D

Thorin Oakenshield was distinctly unhappy with him, Fili knew, if the look on the young man's face was anything to go by. He lay slumped on the floor, covering his nose and complaining of a headache – the sage was to blame, of course. But Fili held firm, and pointedly raised the sage leaf over the candle once more to reignite the flame. He wasn't about to lose the upper-hand he had so unexpectedly gained, not for anything.

Fili did not consider himself a cruel man, but if he were honest with himself, there was a small part of him that enjoyed seeing the warlock so helpless – after all, he would not soon forget how he had woken, not even an hour before, to find himself completely at Oakenshield's mercy. Even the saintliest of men could acquire a thirst for revenge, he supposed, in the wake of feeling absolute terror. But truthfully, it was not vengeance that kept his hand poised so resolutely over the candle flame: it was doubt. Though Oakenshield had not used magic of any kind since Fili had started to burn the sage leaf, he couldn't help but think the warlock was overplaying his sudden vulnerability.

What he needed to know, was _why._

Dwalin, it seemed, had his own suspicions. “Are you sure this is Thorin Oakenshield?” he asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He stood in front of the room's only exit, as if to prevent anyone inside from leaving. “He doesn't look like much to me.”

Fili shrugged. “He's a magic-user at the very least,” he whispered. “We can't take any chances. We're going to run out of sage eventually, and we need to get _rid_ of him before that happens.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

The question came as a surprise to Fili, and he gave his friend a searching look. Though he couldn't see ghosts like Fili could, Dwalin always knew just what to do to get rid of them. The fact that even _he_ was stumped was more than a little unnerving. “Can't we just do what we always do?”

The larger man sighed and rubbed one of his heavily tattooed hands against the back of his head. “Fili, I've banished plenty of unwanted spirits before, but never from a living person. I don't know if the usual methods will even work.”

“I'm wiling to give it a shot if you are,” Fili said, glancing briefly in Oakenshield's direction. “It can't hurt, at least.”

“I'll have to get my supplies out of the car, then. Or what's left of them.” Dwalin grimaced. “I wasn't kidding on the phone when I said I was running low. I'll have to ask Ori if he can help us out.”

Fili blinked, then shook his head, convinced he had misheard something. “You know Ori?”

Dwalin laughed. “Nah, just met the kid! Caught him out front trying to pick the lock on his own front door, can you believe it?” His eyes softened a bit. “Apparently he was really worried about you – seemed like you were trapped in here.”

Fili swallowed uncomfortably; that was news to him. He had been certain that Ori, at least, had escaped – and he wasn't sure how he felt knowing the other man had put himself at risk for Fili's sake. What had he even done to deserve it, anyway? They barely knew each other, for one thing, and Fili hadn't exactly been personable during their short time together either. “Where is Ori now?” he asked quietly, as he stared at the floor.

“Should be looking for you downstairs,” Dwalin admitted sheepishly. “Probably wondering where the hell I am, actually.”

Fili sighed. “Go get your stuff and see if Ori can help with what you don't have. I'll stay here and keep an eye on this guy.”

Dwalin frowned. “You sure about that?”

He really wasn't; Fili was sick to death of the old house, the scent of sage, and _especially_ Thorin Oakenshield, but he didn't see any other choice. “I'll be fine,” he muttered. “Go on.”

And so it happened that once again he was alone with the dark-haired young man. Candlelight probably wasn't the best means to judge by, but Fili thought the warlock looked... different. Had his face always been so pale? And was it his imagination, or was Oakenshield breathing with difficulty now?

_But how could something as common as sage hurt him?_

Oakenshield gave him an unreadable look, and Fili realized belatedly that he had been staring. “Is my new face so pleasing to you?” he asked with a teasing smile, and Fili found any vestiges of sympathy for the warlock fading fast. “Do you think I look like your Thorin?”

It took Fili a moment to realize what Oakenshield was referring to, before he remembered that, for a brief time, the warlock had been able to read his thoughts and memories. Undoubtedly, he knew about that last ill-fated “date” with Thorin, and the thought of that alone was enough to make Fili see red. “Not really,” he muttered through grit teeth, and tore his gaze away to look at the wall.

“Are you sure?” the warlock jeered. “Are you truly certain--”

“Just what are you getting at?” Fili exploded. “Yeah, I'm gay, that doesn't mean I want to jump your bones just 'cause you've got a dick... too...” He trailed off at Oakenshield's scandalized expression. “Um,” he mumbled intelligently.

Oakenshield closed his mouth with an audible click. “You truly see no resemblance between my face and your former paramour?” he asked after an awkward moment of silence.

“He's not my former _anything,”_ Fili spat, but glanced at the warlock to give his face a careful look. Beyond the dark hair and the slight beard on Oakenshield's face, Fili couldn't detect much else that he and Thorin had in common. “Any particular reason you're asking me all this?”

The warlock leaned his head against the wall with a quiet sigh. “Not really, no.”

Fili narrowed his eyes skeptically. “You sure you don't know anything about the body you stole?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Oakenshield insisted, “and I didn't 'steal' anything. The boy offered himself up freely.”

“Oh, I'm sure he did. Can't wait to ask him about that myself.”

“Good luck with that. I wonder how you propose to go about asking?” Oakenshield narrowed his eyes. “Don't think you're clever, I know _exactly_ what you and the bald man are planning, and I can tell you right now it won't work. That man doesn't have an ounce of magic in him.”

“Nope,” Fili agreed easily. “You're right, he doesn't. And yet he's still banished _hundreds_ of ghosts just like you before.”

He waited expectantly for Oakenshield's response, and he wasn't disappointed: the warlock's face visibly fell, and for a moment it seemed he would not speak again. But then, finally: “I would caution you against acting hastily,” the warlock murmured, as his eyes darted around the room. “I could be a powerful ally of yours, if you would allow it.”

“Well, this is a new side of you,” Fili said with a slight laugh. “I think I like it. Go on.”

Encouraged, the warlock leaned forward with a slight gleam in his eye. “There are things I could tell you, about the afterlife. You don't know as much about the dead as you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don't see everything.”

Fili looked at Oakenshield with something like horror. “Don't, or _can't?”_ he whispered. He wasn't sure which possibility alarmed him more.

“Precisely what I said,” Oakenshield snapped, a hint of his earlier pretension coloring his voice, before his face smoothed into a more neutral expression. “Some of us are hiding,” he amended in a calmer tone. “They watch, but do not want you to see.”

Fili frowned. “In my experience, ghosts don't hide--”

“Those are the weak-willed ones: the newly dead and the lonely,” Oakenshield sneered. “There are others, older and wiser spirits, who find you most... _curious.”_

“Do they,” Fili muttered. “Funny, because none of the ghosts I've ever met seem to know me at all.” Against his better judgment, perhaps, Fili rose and approached the warlock, keeping his sage leaves close at hand. “I think you're getting desperate. You're just going to say whatever you think I need to hear to let you live.”

“Arrogance,” Oakenshield hissed, like a chastisement – or perhaps a warning. The warlock then curled into himself and covered his face, and Fili felt another flash of guilt. Was the sage smoke _actually_ hurting him? Before he could think any further on it, Oakenshield began to speak again, in a voice so thin that Fili had to strain to hear it. “Do you really think you know more about ghosts than me? You are nothing but a _boy_ who has yet to see thirty summers, but I! I have the knowledge of _centuries.”_ The warlock's eyes peeked out at him suddenly from between his fingers, and Fili flinched in surprise at the suddenness of it. “You're in more trouble than you know, but I could help you,” the warlock offered.

Fili raised an eyebrow. “Trouble?”

Instead of answering, the warlock began to cough. “Please, take the sage away--”

“Ah, no, I'm not falling for that,” Fili said, but one look at those pitiful brown eyes had him stepping back ever so slightly. He could hear voices now in the hallway, and he looked back at Oakenshield with a frown. “They're coming back, so you better make your case fast.”

In the end, it was just one word: “Frerin,” the warlock whispered. “I can help you find--”

“Fili!” a new voice cut in, and before Fili had a chance to properly register what he had heard, Ori had run over and wrapped his arms around him. “I'm so glad you're all right,” he cried, his arms squeezing ever tighter. “I would have felt _so_ bad if you had died in here!”

“Me too, I'm sure,” Fili muttered distractedly, and turned back toward Oakenshield. He wasn't quite prepared for the sight he saw: the young man was slumped over in apparent distress, eyes clenched shut and breathing shallowly. Fili shook Ori off and pressed a hand against Oakenshield's face. It was cold and clammy, and Fili bit back the urge to swear; the warlock couldn't be faking that, could he? “What's wrong with him?” he asked Dwalin in a voice that was embarrassingly shrill. “Is it the sage?”

Dwalin gaped at the scene before him. “I don't know--”

Fili turned back to the warlock. “Come on, wake up,” he hissed. “You've got my attention, tell me what you know about my brother!” He shook Oakenshield, but to no effect. “Shit,” he whispered, in a voice so tight it was close to breaking. “Shit, don't do this _now.”_

“He said something about Frerin?” Dwalin asked in a hushed voice, but Fili just shook his head.

There was a creaking sound, and Fili turned to see that Ori had taken a hesitant step forward. “What just happened here?” he whispered.

Fili didn't trust himself to speak just then; his brother's death had always been a sore subject, but he was also concerned about Oakenshield. Concerned, and confused. It was just the latest in a long string of baffling incidents that night, but this time, Fili couldn't help but feel some responsibility. Guilt.

Eventually, Fili looked up at Ori and forced a smile to his face. “I think I owe you an apology,” he said in a voice so cheerful it sounded fake even to his own ears. “You had a ghost after all!”

Ori stepped back at once, and his eyes grew almost impossibly wide. “Why can I see him?” he asked in a strained voice, and inexplicably turned to Dwalin. “Do I have the Sight too?”

Dwalin laughed at Ori's terminology. “No, ya don't, I see him too and I've never seen a ghost in my life. This is what we call a spirit possession.” The larger man frowned. “Although I'm not exactly sure what happened to the spirit in question.”

Fili shrugged. “I haven't seen any evidence of Oakenshield, er, vacating the body. I don't think we've forced him out, if that's what you mean.” He paused hesitantly. “But I think the sage... _got_ to him somehow.”

“Could be,” Dwalin agreed, “ghosts don't like sage – it usually forces them from whatever space they're haunting. But if Oakenshield is linked with John Doe over here, he's got nowhere else to go...”

“So he passed out, but he's still in possession of the body?” Fili ran one of his hands through his hair, and resisted the urge to start pulling some of it out. “But what about John Doe? Is he... _in_ there?”

“Well, I don't know anything about that,” Ori cut in, as he wrapped his arms around himself, “but what _I_ want to know is what he's doing here at all. I've felt a presence in here for _weeks,_ and unless my brother has started sneaking strange men inside the house again, I'm pretty sure this guy,” he jabbed a thumb in the young man's direction, “has no business being here.”

Dwalin seemed bewildered for a moment, before his eyes narrowed in thought. “I suppose Oakenshield could have possessed the guy first, and then they broke in?”

“But why would he come here in the first place?”

“He didn't,” Fili cut in. “Or as far as I can tell, Oakenshield was here the entire time. He said this was _his_ house.”

“But it can't be!” Ori exclaimed. “This house isn't even 200 years old! If it's really the spirit of Thorin Oakenshield--”

“He said the boy – well, _this_ guy – broke into his house,” Fili insisted, and tried to remember what it was exactly that Oakenshield had said to him. “He broke in, and touched something he wasn't supposed to. I think it was the book. The one we found in your library?”

“Why would someone break into a house just for a book?” Dwalin asked. Fili had to agree; unless the young man had been high out of his mind at the time, it didn't make much sense. “Let's just get this exorcism over with, and once we have Oakenshield out of the way we can ask the little asshole ourselves what he was thinking. Are we agreed?”

Fili hesitated. He knew that exorcising Thorin Oakenshield's spirit was the right thing to do, but he was no longer sure if he wanted to. He had no way of knowing if the warlock had been bluffing, if he could help him find Frerin or not... but if Dwalin expelled his spirit, he would never know for sure.

“Fili?”

He was suddenly aware of how dry his mouth felt. He glanced over at Oakenshield – no, not Oakenshield, never Oakenshield – but at the young man. His chest rose and fell in even measure, and he seemed to be at peace now that the warlock's presence had retreated somewhere in the depths of his mind – biding his time, perhaps, but not completely gone. Fili wondered, absently, what kind of person the young man had been. A thief? Some kind of criminal? It was hard for Fili to picture anything other than Oakenshield's pompous demeanor on that face, but as he looked at the man's even features, his parted lips and the long, dark hair that framed his face, he realized he wanted to know who he was. Even if he was a criminal, he deserved the chance to live out his life in whatever way he saw fit, no matter what Fili had at stake. And yet... and _yet..._

...what was the harm, really, in keeping Oakenshield around – just long enough to get the information he needed?

Fili gave the young man one last, lingering glance, and stooped to pick up the sage he had dropped. The smoke had diminished and the scent of it was fading fast. Soon it would be gone entirely, and Oakenshield would be back to his full strength – and Fili would know, once and for all, whether he was friend or foe.

_And yet..._

It was almost an unconscious movement, in the end, when Fili bent down to relight the leaves. And that seemed to make his decision for him.

“Let's get started,” he murmured, and breathed a silent apology to his brother, wherever he was.

 

* * *

 

Setting up for an exorcism – or a ghost banishment – was normally a dull affair, so Fili was surprised by the enthusiasm Ori seemed to have for it. The younger man had questions about nearly every step in the process, and it was with some embarrassment that Fili realized he didn't know how to answer. Exorcisms were Dwalin's domain, and Fili had always been content to leave it at that, but the frown on Ori's face had him questioning his indifference to the subject. He suddenly didn't feel much like the best ghost hunter in the business, and that thought didn't set well with him at all.

_Does it really matter if I don't know why we have to use_ lavender _candles? Who else can see ghosts?!_

He glanced over at Dwalin, who was busy drawing a large circle on the floor with chalk. “The scent of lavender is going to protect us from malignant spirits, and purify anything inside this circle,” the larger man was saying, and Fili flushed, certain that Dwalin had somehow read his thoughts.

“And what's the circle for?” Ori asked.

“It'll keep any and all magical activity contained inside of it.”

Ori gasped; he was clearly more impressed with Dwalin's expertise than Fili's so far, and Fili couldn't help but find that thought grating. “You're a witch?”

“Er, no,” Dwalin mumbled awkwardly. “The power's not mine, or at least it doesn't come from me. It comes from the materials I'm using. You just have to know how to use them.”

“And think happy thoughts,” Fili muttered.

“Aye, that's part of it,” Dwalin agreed, all the while throwing an exasperated look in Fili's direction. “You have to keep a clear mind and stay focused.”

“One last question.” Fili looked over at Ori then – who was inexplicably raising his hand as if he were in a classroom. “If Oakenshield's spirit is inhabiting another person's body, presumably one with a spirit of its own... How will you know which spirit to extract if they're both unconscious?”

“Well, shit.” Dwalin turned to Fili. “Any ideas? I've never had _options_ before.”

Fili chewed on his thumbnail. “I kind of think this is more your area...”

“What if I accidentally kill the kid?!”

“Then I'll apologize to him for you,” Fili said gravely. “Provided he comes back as a ghost, anyway. They don't always,” he added in an undertone for Ori's benefit.

Dwalin glared heavily. “You have the _worst_ sense of humor. Seriously, I'm not doing this if there's a chance I'll hurt someone.”

Fili gave his friend a sympathetic look. “I'm not sure what choice we have,” he admitted. He had made his choice, and he wasn't going back on it now. “We can't just let Thorin Oakenshield go on some reign of terror--”

“Since when is Thorin Oakenshield a bad guy, anyway? Do you even know how the legend goes?”

“He stole someone's body!” Fili yelled. “How is that _not_ evil? Not to mention he read my mind, and... and _mind_ -paralyzed me...”

_“Mind_ -paralyzed you?” Dwalin laughed. “Oooh, that's so evil.”

“Wait 'til he tries it on you, see how _you_ like it,” Fili groused.

Ori coughed rather exaggeratedly then, and both men turned to face him. “To be fair,” the slighter man started, “I think stealing someone's body _is_ rather objectionable. And I imagine Kili would like his back.”

Fili narrowed his eyes. “Who's Kili?”

Ori shrugged somewhat, but the movement was jerky and awkward. “I nicked John Doe's wallet while the two of you were arguing. Don't look at me like that,” he added quickly when it looked like Dwalin would protest, “I wanted to know who broke into my brother's house.” He swallowed and looked at the floor. “Anyway, his name's Kili Durin. According to his driver's license, anyway.”

Fili laughed loudly, but it sounded forced. “The last name again, please.”

Ori frowned. “Durin?”

“Goddammit,” Fili hissed. It had to be a coincidence that the young man shared a name with Thorin... but then he thought back to Oakenshield's earlier attempts at riling him. Had the warlock sensed some kind of connection to Thorin all along? Was Kili his son, then? A nephew or cousin, perhaps?

“Still want to attempt an exorcism?” Dwalin asked lightly. “If we keep Oakenshield around, that's one less Durin in the picture...”

Fili gave his friend a dark look. “Look, Thorin's an asshole, but we don't know anything about... _Kili.”_ The name was so similar to his own that merely saying it felt awkward. “And even if he's an asshole too, that doesn't mean we can't--”

“I've got it,” Dwalin cut in wearily. “We'll do the exorcism, all right? I just hope I don't fuck it up.”

“You won't,” Fili said, in a voice just loud enough for Dwalin to hear it. “You haven't yet, you know?”

Dwalin looked away with a slight jerk and rubbed his hands on his jeans. “First time for everything,” he muttered. “Let's just get this thing started. Can you guys move Kili inside the circle for me?”

Fili stooped to grab the young man's feet while Ori lifted from underneath his arms. Though Kili was tall, he was surprisingly light, and the two of them managed to move him inside the circle without much incident.

Dwalin had left a slight gap in the circle he had drawn, and Fili approached it to follow Ori out. He wasn't sure why, but he had been made to understand that simply stepping over the chalk line was something of an exorcism faux pas. But as he was about to walk through the gap, Dwalin held out an arm to stop him. “I need you to do one last thing for me.” He handed Fili a heavy bag. “I want you to salt him.”

Fili raised an eyebrow. _“Salt_ him?”

“Just a sprinkle.” The larger man shrugged. “No clue if it's going to work, but it can't hurt. Salt's supposed to absorb negative energy, so it might help draw Oakenshield's spirit out.”

Fili couldn't stop a laugh from escaping as he scattered the salt granules over the young man. “I feel like we're about to cook him or something.”

“Somehow I think we'd need a bigger fire for that,” Dwalin mused, eying the four purple candles that sat equidistant from each other around the circle.

With a grin, Fili threw one final handful of salt over Kili and stepped out of the circle so Dwalin could close the gap. “That should be it for prep work,” he said to Ori, and threw the bag of salt to the floor with a groan of relief.

“Now what do we do?” Ori asked.

Dwalin handed Ori a bundle of sage leaves that was identical to the one he had given Fili. “Once we light the lavender candles, I want you to hold this over the flame. Wave the smoke over toward the circle.”

“All right,” Ori said, but his voice wavered hesitantly.

Dwalin didn't seem to notice. “After that, I'm going to start chanting. You're going to do your best not to laugh. And try to visualize a white light.”

Fili was only half listening to Dwalin's explanation; other than the addition of salt, the ceremony was familiar to him. It was simple enough, as far as he was concerned; all he really needed to do was stand there while Dwalin did all the work. Well, stand, light the sage, wave the smoke, and picture a white light. Simple enough.

Ori nodded his assent, and they were ready to begin.

Dwalin cleared his throat loudly, and without any other warning, he began to chant in an unfamiliar language. Fili had never asked what it was, or if it was even a language at all – but it sounded rough and guttural to his ear. Not unpleasant, but still not the kind of thing one would listen to at night to help them fall asleep, either. Fili pushed the thought aside with a slight shake of his head, and tried to visualize a white light. Doing so always made him feel ridiculous – Dwalin insisted it was important, but it never seemed to make any difference.

Which was why, when the circle began to glow with a brilliant white light, Fili was so surprised.

Dwalin's gruff voice hesitated for only the briefest of moments before he continued chanting, his words coming out higher and faster as if he were racing for a finish line. Unsure where else to look, Fili's eyes dropped down to the body inside the circle, and his stomach churned at what he saw there. The young man laid exactly where Fili had left him, but the shape of him now was all wrong. His torso was bloated and undulating, as if a beast were trapped within, and he had far too many limbs – writhing arms and legs growing from places they should not have been. Fili's mouth dropped open in horror as a face seemed to sprout from the young man's neck, screaming in fury or pain, he could not tell. But the most disturbing part was how Kili continued to lay there, a serene expression on his face, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil surrounding him.

It took a moment for Fili to realize he was the only one who could see what was happening.

Before he could tear his eyes away, the chalk circle's light intensified to such a degree that Fili could no longer see. He shut his eyes tightly, which only seemed to magnify the volume of Dwalin's voice and the harsh words he spat out, one after the other. Despite his best efforts, Fili found himself thinking about Kili. Did he know what was happening? Was he in pain? Were they helping him at _all?_

Distantly, he thought he heard a woman scream, and almost immediately the light behind his eyes diminished. Fili looked around the room again, and something in his chest relaxed at what he saw: Kili was all right.

Or at the very least, he _appeared_ to be.

“Did it work?” Ori gasped, still clutching his sage leaves in a shaking hand.

“That's a good question,” Dwalin said, his voice equally unsteady. “Fili's the one who has to confirm these things; I can't tell.”

Fili thought back to what he had seen during the exorcism and shuddered. He had never seen anything like it before, and he wasn't sure what it meant – or what he should say. “I think it's too early to tell,” he finally settled on. “I don't think we'll know for sure what happened until he wakes up.”

Dwalin's shoulders seemed to sag at that. “You didn't see anything fly the coop?”

“You might have noticed there was a really bright light? Kind of hindered my ability to see anything,” Fili said, before he realized there was a distinct possibility that no one else had witnessed it.

His concerns were put to rest, though, when Dwalin began to shake his head. “That has never happened before,” he admitted in a soft voice filled with awe. “That light was somethin' else.”

“I think that means it worked,” Ori put in hopefully.

Fili opened his mouth – to say what, he wasn't sure – when a groaning noise from the floor cut him off. A pair of brown eyes blinked up at them, and Fili held his breath.

“Who the hell are all of you?!” the young man asked irritably.

Fili was surprised when Ori stepped in and crossed his arms, no doubt in an attempt to appear menacing. “That's actually my question,” he said with a burst of exaggerated bravado, “considering you're the one who broke into my house.”

Kili's eyes widened, before his head dropped back to the floor with an audible _thunk._ “Aw, shit,” he muttered. “Thorin is gonna _kill_ me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, sorry to end it there, but that's it for this chapter! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili finally has a conversation with the real Kili (we think). Thorin makes a brief appearance (the real one, not the ghost), and Dwalin reveals that he's the biggest fan of Halloween _ever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, everyone! :D I'm sorry this chapter took so long. No, this story absolutely has _not_ been abandoned -- updates are slow right now due to school, but I'm definitely planning to finish this someday! My only advice is to keep this in your subscriptions, if you're into that, so you don't miss the eventual conclusion :)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Nelioe, who requested a new chapter as their prize for the Summer Fandom Raffle Exchange on tumblr! (But, I was hoping to at least update this by Halloween anyway, so don't be surprised if you get another story eventually!)
> 
>  
> 
> Since it's been a while since I posted the last chapter, a few reminders:
> 
> -Fili and Thorin are rival ghost hunters. It's not _entirely_ clear yet why their relationship is so bad (no, it wasn't just the "date"), but we'll learn a little more about that in this chapter.
> 
> -The first ghost Fili ever saw was his younger brother, Frerin. It's not yet clear how he died.
> 
> -We first "met" Kili in the last chapter. All we know is that he broke into Ori's house and read a book that was more dangerous than it first appeared. As a result, he was possessed by the spirit of Thorin Oakenshield, a powerful warlock. Dwalin, Fili, and Ori then attempted to exorcise Oakenshield's spirit, and that exorcism seems to have been successful.
> 
> And with that, I think you should be back up to speed :) I hope you all (and especially Nelioe) enjoy the new chapter! :D

 

 

 

_Last chapter:_

 

_“Who the hell are all of you?!” the young man asked irritably._

_Fili was surprised when Ori stepped in and crossed his arms, no doubt in an attempt to appear menacing. “That's actually my question,” he said with a burst of exaggerated bravado, “considering you're the one who broke into my house.”_

_Kili's eyes widened, before his head dropped back to the floor with an audible_ thunk. _“Aw, shit,” he muttered. “Thorin is gonna_ kill _me!”_

 

* * *

 

 

**Chapter 6**

 

The room was silent for a moment in the wake of Kili's admission. “That name keeps coming up,” Ori muttered, frustration palpable in his voice. “Who is Thorin?”

“He's my uncle,” Kili muttered from the floor.

“There's more to it than that, though.” Ori looked over to Fili. “You know him, don't you? This... _Thorin.”_

Fili bit the inside of his cheek; this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, and especially not with a client. “We've met once or twice,” he finally settled on. “He's in the business, you could say.”

“You mean ghosts?” Ori raised an eyebrow. “This wouldn't, by any chance, be the same man you tried to refer me to earlier today when I visited your office, would it?”

Dwalin swore. “What the hell are you trying to do, directing clients toward Thorin?!” he roared. “After _everything_ that guy has done to us--”

Suddenly Kili was sitting up again. “Just what are you trying to say about my uncle?” he growled with a protective snarl. “He's the _best_ damn ghost hunter this side of the Blue Mountains, and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise!”

“You really think that exposé he wrote on Fili was a decent thing to do, do you?”

“ENOUGH.” Fili looked around at everyone in the room. “Let's not make this about me, all right? Let's not even make it about Thorin.” He let his gaze rest upon Kili. “Why did you come here?”

No one said anything for a moment as all eyes turned back to Kili. The young man's expression had changed; all traces of anger had fled, and he looked up at the group with determination – and, if Fili wasn't mistaken, a hint of pride as well. “I can't tell you that.”

“I think I have a right to know why you broke into my house,” Ori piped up.

Kili flinched, but otherwise his demeanor stayed the same. “I'm sorry,” he said, “but I can't.”

“Don't think I won't call the police--” Ori started, but Fili held up a hand to silence him. He knelt down so he was more on Kili's level.

“What's the last thing you remember, before you woke up here?”

Kili blinked, as if noticing Fili for the first time. Slowly, he began to smile, and Fili was struck by how different it was from any of the previous smiles he had seen on that face – friendlier and more genuine somehow, though he couldn't place a finger on why. “I know you,” Kili said with a laugh, and looked around the room. “Is this a joke? Are you guys secretly filming this for my reaction or something?”

Fili frowned, puzzled. “No, you don't know me,” he said. “I'm being serious, what's the last thing you remember?”

“I...” Kili trailed off and broke eye contact. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “but that's classified...”

“Dammit, we know all about the spell book! Downstairs in the library!” Dwalin roared, apparently at the end of his patience. “What we _don't_ know is what you wanted with it!”

“Were you trying to summon a ghost?” Fili asked in a calmer tone, then frowned. Which spell had the book been open to again? “Or resurrect one?”

Kili gasped, then leaned forward with interest. “Did it work?” he asked breathlessly.

“'Did it work',” Dwalin repeated with a sardonic laugh. “You damn well got yourself _possessed,_ and you want to know if it worked?!”

Fili looked back at Kili, whose eyes were now wider than he had ever seen them. “You have _got_ to be shitting me,” Kili murmured, almost under his breath, then scrambled to his feet with a speed that took Fili by surprise. “Are you for real?” he asked Dwalin.

“Look for yourself,” the taller man spat, pointing at the chalk that still decorated the floor. “If you think you know enough about ghosts to attempt a resurrection, then I would think you'd recognize the signs of an exorcism.”

“I don't remember _any_ of it,” Kili moaned. He looked back and forth between Fili and Ori, apparently not sure which of them would be more sympathetic. “This is the coolest fucking thing that's ever _happened_ to me, and I can't remember a damn thing!” He then sat down by the chalk circle with a frustrated whine.

Dwalin sidled over toward Fili. “Is he actually pouting?”

“Looks like it,” Fili said, his eyes narrowed. “I guess he must be some kind of ghost fanatic.”

If there was one thing Fili hated, it was ghost fanatics. He would never understand why anyone would actually _want_ to see ghosts – clearly they had no idea of the reality of it. Of course, Fili was fiercely proud of his abilities, but he also would have never asked to have them. If given the choice to get rid of them...

Well, he wasn't sure what he'd choose, but life would certainly be easier without them.

Dwalin nodded in understanding. “Well, now what? As far as I'm concerned, we can consider this case closed and head home.”

“I suppose,” Fili agreed, but his expression was pensive.

“Whatever you're thinking, it's got nothing to do with us.”

“Kili knows Thorin,” Fili said, as if that were explanation enough. “They're both after something, and I...”

“...should stay out of it,” Dwalin insisted. “Listen, I have no idea what you did to piss Thorin off so bad, but the last thing we need is more bad press.”

“I don't know what else he can do,” Fili grumbled. “Write another article? He spilled all my trade secrets the first time, what more is there to say? Everyone in town already thinks I'm crazy!” Too late, he realized he had started shouting.

“Oh,” Kili said quietly, as recognition dawned in his eyes. “You're Philip Johnson.” He smiled slightly. “I _knew_ I recognized you.”

“I'm glad it only took the word 'crazy' to jump-start your memory,” Fili snapped, and nearly regretted it once he saw the shame that clouded Kili's face in response. He looked over to Ori. “Are we calling the cops or not?”

“I don't think he means any harm—”

“Then I'm calling Thorin.”

Dwalin gave him an incredulous look. “How do you even have Thorin's number?” He didn't know how Fili and Thorin had started out, and if Fili had any say in the matter, it would stay that way.

“That's classified,” he murmured with a wry glance in Kili's direction.

If Kili knew he was being mocked, he made no show of it. “Wait,” he called, an earnest look on his face. “Please don't call Thorin.”

“And why shouldn't I?”

“If he finds out what happened...” Kili swallowed awkwardly. “He's never going to let me go out on assignment by myself again!”

Fili shrugged. “It's your choice. Tell us what you were doing here, or I'm calling Thorin.” He glanced at Ori briefly. _“And_ the police.”

Kili looked around with wide eyes and gulped. “I'm not going to betray my uncle,” he said nervously.

Fili held his gaze for a few long moments, then sighed. Well, so much for that plan. “Look,” he started. “Do you even have a way back home? I have no idea how you got here, but we're in the middle of nowhere and I didn't see another car out front.”

Kili looked back down at the chalk on the floor. “Thorin dropped me off near the woods and I sort of... wandered.”

“So someone needs to call him. Is that going to be you?”

“No cellphone,” Kili admitted with a shrug. “We were supposed to meet up again at about 7, back at the car park.”

Ori glanced at his watch. “That was nearly an hour ago.”

Kili was suddenly very pale, and Fili was half convinced he might pass out again. “I'll call Thorin,” Fili said quickly, kneeling down again to place a reassuring hand on Kili's shoulder. “You can decide what you want to say to him, but if you have nowhere to go, then someone needs to call him.”

It was only then that Fili remembered what had happened to his phone, back when the whole mess had started. “I guess I need to find my phone first,” he muttered. “I'll be back.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was a dark night, and cold, but Fili savored the fresh air that burned in his throat and his lungs. He had retrieved his smartphone from the library, and although the screen was cracked, it looked like it was still good for a phone call or two. He scrolled through his contacts and paused when he reached Thorin's name. Fili should have deleted him ages ago, and at the moment, he really wished that he had.

 _Don't be a wuss,_ an annoying voice in his head whispered. _Just call and get it over with._

Fili stared at his phone for a full minute, and then two, before he slammed it onto the porch railing with a frustrated grunt. He couldn't do it.

But something was nagging at him, and it wasn't the fact that, if he were honest with himself, Thorin and Kili looked somewhat alike. Hell, he had even thought Kili was handsome, hadn't he? He apparently had a type. But no, it wasn't them, it was the voice in the library, and the voice he had heard...

...right here, in fact. Just before he had entered the house. _Go back._

“Frerin,” Fili whispered. “Frerin, buddy, if you're out there, just talk to me.”

He listened intently, for several long moments, but all he heard was the wind.

“I'm not mad, Frerin,” he tried again. “I never was. I just want to talk to you.”

Nothing.

“Goddammit,” Fili muttered, sinking down onto the wooden planks. He was an idiot. Of _course_ Frerin wasn't there. He couldn't be. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that ghosts were _fixed_ ; they haunted one house, maybe even just one room or a street corner, forever, and they never left. Frerin's domain had been their childhood house, their bedroom, and Frerin had never appeared anywhere else. And even there, not for a very long time. Fifteen years. He had thought Frerin had moved on.

But there had definitely been a voice. And who else but Frerin had ever called him Fee? _It was just some trick of Oakenshield's,_ he thought to himself. He didn't even want to consider the only other possibility.

_It was all in your head. All of it._

Fili could feel the prick of frustrated tears, and he rolled his eyes upward in an attempt to stem the flow. The stars were cold and distant, but they were _real_ , and somehow that thought comforted him.

He groped for his phone on the porch rail, and before he could talk himself out of it, he dialed Thorin.

“What the hell do you want?” Thorin growled after a few rings.

“Oh, kept me in your contacts, did you?” Fili asked with a sarcastic bite. “Maybe you really did care.”

“Dammit, Fili, I don't have time--”

“Do you know a Kili Durin?”

The line immediately went silent. “What have you done to him?” Thorin hissed, and Fili was too stunned by the depth of fury – and fear – in the other man's voice to even feel indignant over what the question implied.

“I swear,” Fili gasped, “I haven't done anything to him--”

Fili jumped when a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, and he looked up to see that Kili had, at some point, joined him out on the front porch. “Give me the phone,” he said softly, and Fili handed it over without question.

Kili took a deep breath as he raised the phone. “Hi, Thorin,” he said with forced cheer. “No, I'm _fine._ They haven't done anything, I...” Kili trailed off, giving Fili a sheepish look before he turned around, as if to give himself some privacy. “I'm the one who fucked up, all right? I was looking for clues, like you told me, and then I did something stupid. Fili's the one who helped me.”

There was a pause as Thorin said something, and then Kili turned back around. “No, I don't think he knew my relationship to you at the time... What does that matter?” He locked eyes with Fili then. “Just why _do_ you guys hate each other, anyway?”

Fili wasn't entirely sure which one of them Kili was asking, so he shrugged. He didn't feel like getting into it, and suspected Thorin probably didn't, either. Their secret was most likely safe.

Kili wrapped things up a minute later and handed the phone back to Fili. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Thorin's going to drop by in a few minutes to pick me up, so if you don't want to see him...”

“Yeah, I'll go back inside,” Fili agreed, and shoved his phone inside his pocket.

For a moment, Kili looked torn. “Before you go,” he started, and bit his lip. “I'm just wondering, but... can you really see ghosts?”

“Why would I lie about that?” At any other time, Fili might have been angry, but instead he just felt exhausted. “What could I _possibly_ gain from lying about it?”

“That's kind of what I figured,” Kili admitted in a hushed voice, “but I also know Thorin would never lie.”

Fili snorted. “Yeah, right,” he muttered, but forced a smile to his face to show there were no hard feelings. Why should Kili believe a perfect stranger over his own uncle? “Look, you've been through a lot tonight, so I'd take it easy for a few days if I were you. Whatever Thorin wants with Oakenshield...”

Kili gasped. “How do you know about that?!”

“Oh, just a hunch,” Fili said. “Anyway, I'd stay out of it from now on, all right? I have a feeling things could get dangerous.” But even as he said it, he had a feeling that _danger_ would never be a deterrent in Kili's book.

It seemed that Fili's words hadn't even registered, though. Kili's arm shot out to grip Fili's, and his eyes remained troubled. “You said I was possessed by a ghost,” Kili said in a low voice, “but you never said...”

They were interrupted by the sound of a car honking, and Fili pulled away. “I should go back inside.”

“Whose ghost was it?” Kili whispered desperately. “Was it Oakenshield? Did I actually find him?”

“Kili, you know the ghost who possessed you is _gone_ now, right? We exorcized the spirit, it's moved on...”

“Oh, God,” Kili gasped, just as the car honked again. Any longer, and Thorin might actually come out and join them, and Fili wasn't prepared to deal with that. “Oh, God, I've ruined _everything--”_

“Hey, now.” Something about the distraught expression on Kili's face made Fili want to reach out and take him in his arms, but he held himself back. “I never said it was Oakenshield.”

“You didn't have to,” Kili muttered, his voice unsteady. “You're absolutely sure the spirit isn't still around? You can't... see him?”

“I'm sorry,” Fili said, and for a reason he couldn't explain, he really meant it.

They both jumped at the sound of a car door slamming, and Kili laughed in surprise before his mouth turned downward again. “I guess I'd better go,” he said, sounding miserable. “Thanks for the help. You actually don't seem all that bad.”

Fili swallowed the urge to laugh at the backhanded compliment. “Well, thanks, same to you.” He looked down at the dark figure storming up the hill, and shot Kili a sympathetic glance. “Good luck, man.”

Kili gulped. “Yeah, yeah...” He reached forward and gave Fili a nervous, awkward pat on the shoulder. “Happy Halloween, bro, it's been real.” And with that, he ran down the front steps to intercept his uncle before he could get any farther.

Instead of going back inside, Fili stayed on the porch for a moment and watched as Kili and Thorin turned to leave. In a way, it was hard to believe the two of them were related – Kili seemed to be full of enthusiasm and an eagerness to please, whereas Thorin was... well, none of those things. Fili found himself smiling despite himself. It was too bad that Kili had to be associated with someone like Thorin, he decided... even if he _was_ a ghost fanatic. For a brief moment, he fantasized about offering Kili a job with the Blue Mountain Paranormal Research Society. The pay wasn't much, but the ghosts were real and plentiful – and Fili would have _really_ enjoyed stealing one of Thorin's ghost hunters away. But even as he thought it, he knew that Kili would never betray his uncle like that.

Fili laughed as he remembered Kili's parting words. “Nearly forgot it _was_ Halloween,” he said to himself. It had never been his favorite holiday, but this year was certainly going to be a memorable one. For a multitude of reasons.

The front door swung open. “We've finished cleaning up,” Dwalin announced. “You ready to go? I'll drive you back.”

Ordinarily Fili might have protested, but he was too tired to put up much of an argument. “That sounds great.”

“Oh, but don't think I'm taking you straight to your place. Your phone call earlier interrupted my Halloween prep, so now you're going trick-or-treating with me.”

It was only then that Fili noticed the bright yellow leggings that Dwalin was wearing underneath his jacket. “Uh, I don't have a costume.”

“Oh yeah, you do.” Dwalin grinned just a bit too widely. “I had a feeling I'd be able to guilt you into celebrating with me somehow, so that's already lined up.”

Fili shoved his hands into his pockets as they started the trek down to Dwalin's truck. “Guilt me?”

“Yeah, I think going trick-or-treating is a perfectly reasonable form of payback, considering I just saved your ass and everything.”

Fili gave his friend a suspicious look. “All right. What am I going as?”

“Well, I'm Bowser. You'll figure out the rest.” Dwalin unlocked his truck and got inside. “Oh, and Ori's meeting up with us too.”

"Ori?"

“Yeah, he's a cool guy. And happened to have a costume that fits our theme.”

Fili fastened his seat belt as they took off down the road. “Don't tell me he had a Princess Peach costume lying around?”

Dwalin's maniacal laughter filled the truck. “Oh, no. Not _him_.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for now! Hopefully the next chapter won't take me as long :P
> 
> Also, [I'm on tumblr](http://khafushun.tumblr.com/), although it's mainly just queued posts at the moment due to the school thing. Still, my queue is pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. Hahahaha.
> 
> (Uh, but don't click that link if you're at work... My queue is usually a bit tamer than that, lmao.)


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